Ginger Without Borders

One reality of being a ginger (having red hair) is you stick out in almost any crowd. This is particularly so in India, where sighting a ginger is practically as rare as sighting a unicorn.

As a result, as of day 10 in India, I have been approached at least five times every day to be asked where I am from and at least twice every day with requests for a photo. I cannot even count the number of prolonged stares and children screaming “hi!” while passing by.

In a particularly memorable instance, my family and I were visiting a local beach near my mother-in-law’s village when an entire family of probably 10 people approached us for a photo and would not take ‘no’ for an answer.

Cue my husband laughing hysterically while the Indian family took photo upon photo with me scowling after the family continued to insist upon photos when a wave came in, drenching my pants because I couldn’t run away due to the mob.

According to Kingston, those photos made the family’s vacation and we’ll be part of a family’s photo album forever. I can just imagine the family looking back and commenting, “Remember that time we sighted a ginger in the wild? And she wasn’t even as ghost white as I thought she’d be!”

There really is never a dull moment as a ginger.

P.S. I am still alive. And thankful no one has handed me their child to hold in a photo, as they did to my other ginger friend when he lived in India—at least not yet.